Let It Die: 23 Songs That Should Never Be Covered Again

Perhaps because it's The Smiths' most recognized
and recognizable song, "How Soon Is Now?" has endured countless ignoble
recreations since it debuted 20 years ago. It's high time for it to retire with
dignity. In spite of what bands may think, the nearly seven-minute epic isn't easy to cover, as it quickly exposes their
shortcomings—few things are worse than someone trying to be Morrissey.
Sadly, the song's association with the '80s and The Smiths' cool cred guarantees
more ill-advised reprises down the road. See faux-lesbian Russian teen-pop duo
t.A.T.u., who make it sound like a number by The Chipmunks.

Does any Beatles song need more cover versions? It's tough
to resist a great song, but apart from early covers by R&B greats like
Stevie Wonder, Aretha Franklin, and Ray Charles (and some digressions from
Frank Sinatra and Elvis), does anyone actually shine new light on a Beatles
hit? "Revolution" could stand in for the whole catalog, but it deserves special
mention, if only for Rascal Flatts' 2007 cover for the Evan Almighty soundtrack. When the
blandest possible country act is covering a song on the soundtrack to a sequel
to a Jim Carrey movie, the word "revolution" shouldn't be involved in any way.

What says "I'm a rebel who plays by my own rules"
less than the Steppenwolf song that's become an "I'm a rebel who plays by my
own rules" cliché? Nothing. Nobody told that to Hinder or NASCAR, who teamed up
for a cover this year. But the real offenders are the thousands of bar bands
who've made it into a late-set staple. There's probably one playing it to
drunken yahoos as you read this.

A staple of myriad "Best Of The '80s"
compilations, Modern English's biggest hit has been flogged into oblivion by
numerous ad campaigns, bands tapping '80s nostalgia, and Modern English itself.
(The band re-recorded it for 1990's Pillow Lips.) Since the cult of the
'80s developed in the mid-'90s, countless terrible versions of "I Melt With
You"—particularly by shitty emo/punk bands—have assaulted listeners.
Check out Bowling For Soup's version from the Sky High soundtrack, which changes
the lyrics "Making love to you" to "Being friends with you" for impressionable
Disney ears.

One source estimates that Bob Dylan has played
this song 1,400 times—more than any of his others—but that number
pales in comparison to the number of covers out there, by performers including
Pat Boone, Dave Matthews, Heart, Tiny Tim, and virtually every jam band ever.
In one regard, "All Along The Watchtower" is an argument for covers, as Jimi Hendrix's
version is virtually definitive. But then you remember Heart.

Cover songs make a statement about the band
playing them, and this one says, "We like Joy Division, so we're cool, right?" Yes and no: Released just a month before Joy Division frontman Ian Curtis killed himself, it has become his band's defining song. As such, countless bands
have unwittingly pissed on Curtis' grave—which actually has "love will
tear us apart" as an inscription—by massacring his song. Fall Out Boy's
bladders must be pretty empty.

Another seeming case in favor of covers, "Respect"
was originally released by Otis Redding in 1965, though Aretha Franklin owned
it from 1967 on. Bold for its time, the song addresses racial and gender issues
with a forceful, no-bullshit refrain. Nearly half a century later, American
Idol
contestants use it to show their "soulfulness" and "spunk." (It figured
prominently in the repertoire of inaugural winner Kelly Clarkson.) Its
reinterpretations by the likes of Dexy's Midnight Runners don't fare much
better.

Speaking of Dexy's Midnight Runners, the group's
1982 hit "Come On Eileen" desperately needs to find eternal rest, along with
the pointless '80s nostalgia it embodies. And what was it about shitty '90s ska
bands and hits from the '80s? Because Save Ferris was all over this back in
'97. "Eileen" was played out even then, when it was a mere 15 years old.

No other voice in country music—or, perhaps,
any
kind of music—could convey gut-wrenching vulnerability and loneliness
like Patsy Cline's. Granted, her entire catalogue basically boils down to "Why
you treat me so bad?", but no one asked that better. That voice makes
"Crazy"—written by a young Willie Nelson—especially haunting. Not so haunting are the
versions by mid-'90s emo band Mineral, or crappy industrial band Kidneythieves,
which put it on the Child's Play 4 soundtrack.

How do you know definitively that a song should be
retired? How about when 10 second-season finalists from American Idol join together to release
it as a single? You can find the CD—one song with all the finalists,
another version with just Clay Aiken, Ruben Studdard, and Rickey
Smith—for $.01 on Amazon.

"Grapevine" presents the strongest argument for
covers, as Motown songwriters Norman Whitfield and Barrett Strong shopped it to
several artists before anyone bit, and three different versions became hits
(Gladys Knight & The Pips in 1967, Marvin Gaye in 1968, and, uh, The
California Raisins in 1987). Regardless, it basically remains Gaye's, and
renditions by groups like The Average White Band, Kaiser Chiefs, Michael
McDonald, Psychic TV, and, uh, Señor Soul are patently inessential.

Another journeyman of a song, "Tainted Love" began
life back in 1964 when Ed Cobb wrote it for soul singer Gloria Jones. It
reappeared 11 years later with Ruth Swan, but for 26 years, it's been mostly
associated with Soft Cell, who made it a staple of '80s pop. The dark
electropop of that version make it a favorite among industrial and techno bands
such as Coil, Deathline Int'l, Atrocity, and that paragon of clichéd rebellion,
Marilyn Manson. His "dark" and "twisted" video for the song is guilty of a
number of crimes, perhaps none worse than the image of his "goth thug" vanity
license plate.

Supposedly David Bowie's most covered song, "Rebel
Rebel" has lived a long, full life since he debuted it on Diamond Dogs in 1974—so full, in
fact, that Bowie retired it after a 1990 tour (though he inexplicably
rerecorded it in 2003). Even had Bowie let sleeping dogs lie, plenty of other
bands have it covered. And really, who wouldn't want to hear Dead Or
Alive's take on it? Or let Bryan Adams rework it? Duran Duran maybe? Def
Leppard? Seu Jorge, you get a pass.

No other song better embodies '80s musical
nostalgia than Nena's "99 Red Balloons"—ahem, "99 Luftballons"—and
for that reason alone, it deserves retirement. Not enough? How about a slew of
terrible covers by the likes of Reel Big Fish and Goldfinger, or a Harry
Potter-themed
version called "99 Death Eaters" by Draco And The Malfoys, or the raved-up
version by Airbag? Maybe that isn't enough: When VH1 Classic auctioned airtime for
Hurricane Katrina victims in 2006, one viewer donated $35,000 for the station
to play Nena's video continuously for an hour.

If cover songs make statements, this one says, "We
just like to fuckin' party, bro. Go to the lake, take the T-top panels off,
spark one up, and just get wild! Ooooowwwwwoooooooo!" (It's best if you imagine
Matthew McConaughey in Dazed And Confused saying that.) Or, to use Paul Stanley's
introduction at the 1996 Video Music Awards: "Everywhere around the world, we
try to tell people: There are no borders, there are no prime ministers, there
are no presidents, there's only one nation: That's Kiss nation! There's only
one rock 'n' roll national anthem: 'Rock And Roll All Nite,' party every day!"
It's tough to argue with that logic, but bands, take note: It's inhumane to
subject the world to more Kiss especially if you're recasting it as ska (SKAndalous
All-Stars) or dance-pop (Daytona).

At the corner of Bowery and Second in New York,
there should be a panel of pure black granite, à la the Vietnam Veterans
Memorial. At the top will be inscribed "Si Monumentum Requiris Circumspice"
("If you seek a memorial, look around"), with the names of the bands who should
have never covered "Blitzkrieg Bop": Skid Row, Rob Zombie, The Beautiful South,
Hanoi Rocks, and untold anonymous groups appearing at a bar near you. May we
never forget.

Possibly the only song on this list that's in
President Bush's iPod, "Brown Eyed Girl" has, if nothing else, been played to
death by your local oldies station. According to BMI, it has been played an
astounding 8 million times on radio and TV since debuting 40 years ago. Please,
bands, there's no reason to add to that Not that it's stopped groups like
Rockapella, Jimmy Buffett, Everclear, Boyz Night Out, and something called the
Caribbean Magic Steelband, who included it on the album Island Favorites. Well, Van Morrison's
native Ireland is technically an island

Harry Nilsson wrote it, Three Dog Night made it
famous, and dozens of bands beat the crap out of "One" (a.k.a. "One is the
loneliest number") for years thereafter. Aimee Mann reclaimed it for the sane
populace with her gentle cover (featured heavily in Magnolia), which erased years of
abuse, including a version by Dokken. It would be best for everyone involved if
Mann's version provided a bookend to Nilsson's.

Two covers of The Rolling Stones' staple have
brought incredible new life to this clear classic: Devo's jittery new-wave
shot, and Cat Power's deliriously slow, wandering version. Hundreds of others
have attempted to recreate the power of Keith Richards' massively recognizable
lead and Mick Jagger's pouting about the life of a rocking man. There's no
shame in leaving this one to the masters (and karaoke bars).

Every time earnest coffeehouse troubadours strike
the simple chords of "Wonderwall" and feel its majesty coursing through their
veins, an angel dies. Just because a song is easy to play doesn't mean it's
easy to play well.
Ryan Adams does a suitable version, adding some soulful smoke, but other
singer-songwriters haven't had any luck, and there's even a cottage industry of
half-serious covers (Radiohead, Robbie Williams, Mike Flowers Pops). Write your
own "Wonderwall," coffeehouse crooner.

Imagine a world in which only those who truly
understand and embrace the message of John Lennon's "Imagine"—that
religion, nationalism, and capitalism are all essentially insane—bother
to cover it. Unitarian churches go nuts with it, and that's fine, but Avril
Lavigne, the physical embodiment of crass consumerism? That's just painful.
Even A Perfect Circle mangles it, turning something hopeful and beautiful into
something foreboding and scary. Too bad Lennon wrote such a beautiful
melody—it lends itself to empty renditions.

Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" passed into the realm
of pop standard long ago, so often has it been committed to record and covered
live in performances ranging from heart-stopping to merely histrionic. To be
fair, two of those cover versions were arguably better than the original: John
Cale's mournful take (only slightly marred by its appearance in Shrek and Scrubs) and Jeff Buckley's
gorgeous rendition. But apparently no one can settle on a "definitive" edition
and just let it be, because Bono, Imogen Heap, k.d. lang, Bon Jovi, and too
many others have tried, with increasingly sterile results. Recently, actor
Anthony Michael Hall (yes, that Anthony Michael Hall) growled his way through
his
own version; can William Shatner's take be far behind?

23. "What A Wonderful World"

Considering that an aged Louis Armstrong sang the
original, it's hard to believe this song is a scant 40 years old—it sounds
far more old-timey in both sentiment and performance. Maybe that's because the
world has endured countless renditions over the years by a who's who of the
enemies of good taste: Celine Dion, Kenny G, Michael Bolton, Rod Stewart, and
John Tesh. Even Joe Pesci felt compelled to share in 1998. But when a
ventriloquist sings it through a stuffed turtle who's doing an impression of
Kermit The Frog covering Louis Armstrong, we as a society must finally say enough.